Bruce did not sleep well.
That was unusual. He had, since arriving in the Soul Realm, slept the deep clean sleep of a soul-body doing honest work. Last night he had lain awake for a long time before sleep came, and when it came it had been thin, the kind of sleep that a physical-realm surgeon knew as the sleep of a mind that had been given something too large to finish processing before rest.
He had been thinking, all night, about being case seven.
He had been thinking, more specifically, about Sophie.
The Library had not just given him the historical pattern of the six previous cases. It had, in some quiet way he had not fully absorbed until he was lying in the dark, put a specific number in front of him. Zero of six had reached SS. Zero of six had returned to their bodies in the physical realm. Every previous case had either died in this realm or lived by choosing not to leave it.
He was climbing toward SSS. He was also more inclined toward going home.
